


You Lose, Bucky Barnes

by piefight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piefight/pseuds/piefight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Bucky is an asshole, but then a certain blonde comes along to fix him.</p>
  <div class="center">
    <p><br/>Or,</p>
    <div class="center"></div>
  </div>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>Here is a kind of fucked up twist to the stereotypical Stucky fic.</p>
</div>(Don't hate me.)
            </blockquote>





	You Lose, Bucky Barnes

"Please, Bucky — it hurts," said the bleached-blond nobody whose ass I was fucking. He was on his knees in front of me, his head turned sideways on his pillow and looking back at me with a face screwed up in pain.

I managed to gasp out ”One more minute. You can do it." I was about to come, and I didn't want this pansy-assed boy scout to spoil it for me.

"Hurry," he said, or whined is more like it.

I started to feel the signs, so I dug my nails into his hips and slammed into him with all the force I could. He cried out his pain in rhythm with my thrusts. Then I came. My whole body stiffened and I yelled something in some language no one knows. When I was done, I collapsed, doubled over on his back.

"Oh, yeah," I breathed, "That was great. You did good." I pulled myself back up, running my hand down his back and over his smooth ass. I slid my cock out of him, and sat back, leaning against the wall. He slowly stretched out his legs and lay flat on the bed. He started to cry quietly. Great, he was a crier. Next thing you know, he'd want me to hold him or some shit. "Ok, what's wrong?" I said, sounding a bit exasperated.

"I don't know," he said. "It wasn't what I thought it would be, I guess." He looked back me with sad, scared eyes. "Will you hold me?" What did I tell you?

My name is Bucky, and the bottled blond I was taking into my arms was… Pietro? Something weird like that.

I had my first man when I was fourteen. He was a college student I'd met at an arcade. He thought he was seducing me, but he never would have made the first move if I hadn't started things. I let him fuck me in the back seat of his car. I'm seventeen now, and I've had more guys than Madonna. I've had old and young, gay and straight, black and white and everything in between. The oldest was my forty-five year old math teacher, the youngest was the thirteen year old brother of the captain of my high school's basketball team.

Sex. It's my life. It's what I do.

~o~

"Hey Bucky!"

I looked around to see who it was. Clint. I'd done him about three weeks ago. I had thought he'd be more of a challenge. He was sort of my opposite number in the straight world. He'd done every girl in school worth doing, and some who weren't. I got him to go to a movie with we, and he let me jack him off right there in the theater. Later that evening, back at my house, he fucked me. First time out to full penetration in one day.

"Hey, Clint, what's up?" I put my books away and closed my locker. He fell into step beside me and we walked toward the main entrance of the school.

"You doing anything this weekend?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was thinking if you weren't, we could — you know — _do_ something."

"Ah. Actually, I have plans."

"Oh." He sounded a little disappointed. Not devastated, just disappointed. "You got your eye on someone?"

"Maybe."

"Thought so. Who?"

I nodded to the left with my head as we passed the guy in question. Clint followed my nod.

"Who? Jane?"

"Jane?" I said, "Get real. Even if I did chicks, I wouldn't do Jane. The guy next to her."

He looked back again. "Oh. The new guy. I think he's in my science class. What's his name?"

"Steve, or something like that." Steve had started coming to school here about two weeks ago. He was quiet — real quiet. No one — and I mean no one — knew much about him. He sat in the back of all his classes, and actually took notes. He did his homework, and got B's. He never said anything to anyone; but, to be fair, no one said much of anything to him either. He was a mystery — a cute mystery. He was kinda short, skinny as anything, with short, blonde hair and really nice blue eyes. His skin was kinda pale. He wore these really cool glasses, round ones, like John Lennon glasses, but clear.

"Right. So the weekend is out?"

"Tell you what, if you really want to do something," I put the same emphasis on 'do', "then why don't you come to my place Friday night."

"Friday, that's tomorrow. About seven?"

"Seven's cool."

"Sweet. See ya then." He took off.

I stopped at the drinking fountain, and kinda looked back down the hall. Steve was walking into the library. I waited a few minutes, then went in after him. I never really felt comfortable in the library. Too many books. It was creepy, all this history bundled up and stored on shelves. Steve was at the card catalog, going through the D drawer. After a moment, he wrote something down on a note card, and went towards the back of the library. I half watched him, and he soon went to a table with a book. After a minute, I walked over to the table, pulled out the chair across from him, and sat down.

"Hi," I said, extending my hand. "I'm Bucky."

He looked up at me, confused. "Uh, hi." He shook my hand.

"You're new."

"Uh, yeah. You're, uh, Bucky Barnes, right?"

"Yeah. Heard of me?"

"Yeah."

"Good things, I hope."

"Well, no."

I smiled. "Cool, I have a bad reputation?"

"Yeah. Look, did you want something?"

"No, just wanted to say hi, welcome to Midwood High, anything you need, just ask me."

"Okay, thanks. I need to—" he held up his book, "—I need to read."

"Gotcha. Tell you what," I took his pen and wrote my phone number on the top of his notebook. "If you need anything, give me a call. Even if you just want to talk, okay?" I noticed his name printed on the side of the notebook, Steve Rogers.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

As I stood, I winked at him. "See ya, Steve." I walked out of the library without looking back.

~o~

It was Friday evening. I was lying back on my bed reading a comic book:  
Saga, issue 23. Clint had just arrived and was sitting on the  
chair next to my bed. He was babbling about something as he untied his  
shoes. When he paused, I made a noise and that satisfied him and he  
went on. He pulled his shirt over his head, and then stopped talking.  
I looked over at him.

"So," he said, "You gonna get undressed?"

"Yeah, in a minute. I'm almost done with this."

"Good one?"

"I'm not sure. I can't figure it out."

"Must be good, then." He pulled off his jeans and boxers and started idly jacking off while he waited for me. I finished the last page, and set it aside.

"Hey, wait for me," I said, and started taking my clothes off. Clint was pretty hot, for a supposedly straight boy. He was seventeen, like me, with blond hair and green-blue eyes. He was pretty well built. "So, what's it gonna be?" I said as I pushed my briefs off.

"I was thinking you could blow me. I haven't had a good blowjob in a week."

"Okay, first I blow you, then I fuck you."

"All right," he said, sounding not too enthusiastic. He hated to admit, even to himself, that he liked getting his ass fucked.

"You know you love it," I said, as I knelt between his legs.

~o~

After Clint left, I was alone in my room. The lights were out, the  
window was open, and the cool breeze across my bare body made me shiver.  
I loved the sensation. I was laying on my bed, on my side. The bed  
was still warm next to me where Clint had lain on his back.

I sometimes wish he'd let me kiss him. There's something about Clint that was different from all the others. He's the only one I've done anything with more than once. Usually once I'd done someone, they just didn't interest me anymore. The thrill was in the chase, you know? Clint, though ... Clint was a particular triumph. He was sort of a symbol, an icon of the way things "should be." He was the one that all the straight guys looked up to, even if they wouldn't admit it. He was the way society was supposed to work. That's what I liked about fucking him. When my cock was in his ass, I wasn't just fucking him, I was fucking society. But, if I could kiss him ... if I could kiss him my victory would be complete.

He wouldn't let me, though. He said it was "too gay." Yeah, like me fucking him wasn't.

So anyway, Clint had left, and I was lying naked on my bed, getting goosebumps from the night air. I started thinking about Steve. I wanted him. I would have him. Just thinking about locking my gaze to those beautiful blue eyes when I shot my cum into his butt was getting me hard.

I looked at the clock by my bed. Not even eight yet. Talk about a quickie.

~o~

Monday morning, halfway through biology, I suddenly realized that I  
hadn't heard a thing Mr. Banner had said. This was not normally such a  
bad thing, but he'd just asked me a question, and I didn't have any idea  
what the answer might be. The question had been something like "Who  
first postulated the idea of asexual reproduction?" We were talking  
about plant cells and shit like that. He probably had told us who came  
up with this idea a few minutes ago, but I'd missed it completely.

"You wife?" I said. A quickly hushed, stunned laughter swept across room.

Mr. Banner gave me an icy stare. "Why don't you come see me after school," he said. Sometimes I let the opportunity for a laugh override my good sense.

As I was getting my history book from my locker, I saw Clint walking down the hall. I kind of half waved to him, and he nodded back. He got himself loose from the girl he was walking with, probably his next victim, and came over to me.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Like what?"

"Steve's in your science class this afternoon, right?"

"Yeah."

"Could you maybe pick a fight with him?"

"What? Why?"

"Mr. Banner gave me detention today. I want Steve to be there too."

Clint smiled. "Ahh. You're a real bastard, you know that?"

I smiled back. "That's where you're wrong. My parents were married. Will you do it?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I don't know. How about I be your slave for a night?"

"Done and done. Any ideas how I avoid detention?"

"You'll come up with something."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're smart."

He looked at me for a moment. "Did you ever notice that the only time you say anything nice to me is when you want something from me?"

"Hey, don't get upset here. It's not just you."

"Yeah, like that helps. Steve will be there. And then you're mine for a night."

"Cool. You're a friend." But he wasn't, not really. He was a rival. Not one who competed for the same territory, but one who competed for my fame. Still, he was about the only one I could brag to, the only one who understood the thrill of the chase.

Shortly after the final bell, I arrived at Mr. Banner's room. He was grading some papers at his desk, and Steve, looking sullen, was sitting near the back of the room.

Mr. Banner looked up from the papers. "Ahh, Mr. Barnes. Why don't you have a seat and occupy yourself quietly for the next 30 minutes."

"Yes sir," I said, trying not to sound too happy. I took the desk next to Steve. He gave me an odd look. I smiled at him.

After a few minutes, Mr. Banner picked up his coffee cup and brought it to his lips. He then pulled it back and looked into it, frowning. He got up and left the room with it.

"Hey," said Steve, "I heard about your joke. That was pretty good."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it? Not mine, though. It's from a movie. _Wargames_. Ever see it?"

"No. Look, these things I hear about you — are they true?"

"Probably. What have you heard?"

"Well, are you — I mean — I've heard that you're — um—"

"Gay?"

"Yeah." He smiled nervously.

"Oh." I wasn't going to let him off that easy.

"Well, um, are you?"

"Gay?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. You?"

"No."

"Too bad."

"Um, yeah, um — is it true about how many guys you've — uh—"

"Fucked?"

Again the smile. He was adorable. "Yeah. Is it?"

"Probably. I've done a few guys."

"They say you — uh — use guys and then abandon them. Is that true?"

"Sort of. I've never forced anyone to do something. I'm just very persuasive."

Now he looked a bit more nervous. "And, am I — uh — am I—"

"Next?"

He smiled nervously. "Yeah. Am I next?"

"I hope so."

"You're pretty blatant."

"Not always. Last year I seduced one of my teachers. In class. And only he and I knew what was happening."

"How could you — um — you know, do it in class without anyone knowing?"

"No, we didn't actually do anything in class, I just set it up there. We met after school and actually did the deed. I got an A that semester."

He looked at me a moment, sort of stunned. "This is _so_ weird."

"What?"

"You. I mean me. I mean, you don't seem to have a single redeeming characteristic. You're bragging about this, this awful thing, and you might as well have told me straight out that you want to fuck me and abandon me."

"I want to fuck you and abandon you."

"See? It's like some game, like you want to mess up my life for fun."

"I don't want to mess up your life. I just want to widen your hole."

He laughed. "Oh, God, see what I mean? And do you know what the worst part is? Do you?"

"No."

"The worst part is, I can't help but like you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, I _like_ you. That's all. Nothing more. There's some sick and twisted part of me that finds you amusing."

"Cool. Would that sick and twisted part of you like to go to Wendy's when we get out of here?"

"What the hell," he said. "We'll get food, we'll talk, but nothing more, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

After leaving Mr. Banner's room, we biked to Wendy's on 8th Ave. I got a frosty and Steve got a baked potato. His eyes flashed as he spoke, and I found my gaze constantly being drawn back to them. I don't really remember anything he said. Hell, I don't even remember for sure what I said. I was a bit distracted. I was also hard as steel. I wanted him.

"Are you listening to me?" Pause. "Bucky?"

I blinked. "What?"

"I said, 'Are you listening to me?'"

"Uh, yeah. What did you say?"

"Where were you?"

"I don't know. Florida maybe?"

"Sounds nice. But," He licked his lips. "I want to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

He looked around. "Why me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why did you decide I would be next?"

"Oh. Because of the way you look."

"But why? I mean, It's not like I'm really good looking. I'm skinny, I wear glasses—"

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"Yes."

"Next time, take a better look. Look at the way you walk, like you're totally unaware of yourself, like you have a confidence you don't even know about. You're, like, the all-American boy. But the biggest thing is your eyes. Did you know that your eyes catch the light and throw it all over the room. They're not quite the same color, either. Did you know that?"

"They're not?"

"No. It's not something you'd just notice." I leaned across the table and looked deeply into his eyes. "Your right eye is just a little bit lighter than your left. But they both have these sparkly things in them. I don't think I've ever seen such beautiful eyes." I sat back in my chair. He was blushing. "That answer your question?"

He smiled, shyly, and said "Yeah, I guess. Do you really think so, or are you just trying to get me into bed?"

"Both."

"Um, I'm not going to sleep with you. I'm just not, okay?"

"We'll see."

"The only reason I'm even here is that you're just so, I don't know, like, you're not trying to hide it. You're just coming at me with your guns blazing. Know what I mean? You're not being sneaky. There's just something about that that interests me."

"Cool. I'm obvious. And you like that."

"Yeah, I guess that's right. Um, look, I was thinking about going to a movie Friday, maybe _Jurassic World_ , but I don't really have anyone to go with. Would you—?"

"I'm there. What time?"

"I think it's seven, at the Cooper. Meet me there?"

"There'll be a line. Should we meet at six-thirty?"

"Yeah, probably a good idea."

"Cool." I smiled at him. "Our first date."

He gave me a glare. "Or we could forget the whole thing."

"You're so paranoid."

"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean you're not out to get me."

I just smiled.

~o~

Later that evening, I was at home, sitting on the couch with the phone  
stuck to my ear. It rang three times, then someone answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello," I answered, "Is Clint there?"

"Oh, Bucky," said Clint's father, sounding non-plussed, "Just a minute." He put the phone down.

A moment later the phone was picked up again, and Clint said "Hi, Bucky."

"Hey. What's up?"

"I don't know. What is?"

"Well, I don't know how you managed, but it worked like a charm. Steve is all but mine."

"Cool. You owe me."

"I know. One night, I'm your slave." My mother gave me a sad look from across the room. She was long over being shocked by me.

"Anything I want, right?"

"Yep, anything you want."

"So, tell me about it."

"Okay. After we left school, we went to Wendy's. Just got fries, cokes, and we talked. He's pretty smart. Anyway, on the way out, I managed to get a good feel of his ass." 

My mother stood and left the room.

"And what did he say?"

"He told me to stop it."

"That's all?"

"That's all. We're gonna go see _Jurassic World_ Friday night."

"I heard it's pretty shit."

"I don't care. I don't expect to watch much of the movie."

"You think a movie is going to do it?"

"Worked with you."

"Um, yeah — but that was me. Steve seems kinda, you know — um — inexperienced."

"How do you know?"

"Well, I heard he was a virgin."

"So what if he is? Ya gotta start somewhere."

"Yeah, whatever. Look, I gotta go. Dinner's ready."

"Okay. Later."

"Yeah, later." He hung up the phone.

~o~

It was early Thursday evening. I was at home, in the living room,  
laying on the couch watching reality tv. I couldn't tell you what was  
happening on screen, I was half asleep and half lost in non-thought. A  
nervous tap on my shoulder woke me up. My mother was kneeling by the  
couch, the portable phone in her had.

"It's for you." I hadn't even heard it ring.

Taking the phone, I smiled at her and she hustled away. "Hello?"

"Bucky?"

"Yeah. Hi, Steve, what's up?"

"I'm bored. You wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure. Which one?"

"I dunno. Maybe you could, like, meet me at the Redbox at Red Apple?”

"Sounds good. I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Fifteen minutes later I was browsing at the Redox kiosk. I've never been especially pleased with their selection. Sure, there were dozens of copies of all the popular new titles, but if I wanted anything a little off the beaten path I was out of luck.

A few minutes later, I saw Steve walk in to the grocery store. He looked around, and saw me, then smiled and walked over.

"Find anything?"

I hummed. "I'm trying to decide between Mortdecai and Hayride 2 .'"

He just looked at me for a moment.

"I'm joking! Jeez, get a sense of humor."

He smiled. "I never know when you're joking. I really don't know what to expect from you."

"Good. Give us a kiss."

"No way. Pick a movie.”

“These all suck. But I brought one form home— _Army of Darkness_ ,” I said with a cheesy grin.

"What's it about?"

"You've never seen it?"

"No."

"Oh, we got to get it then. Trust me, you'll like it."

"All right." He sounded unconvinced.

About two hours later we were at his house, halfway through the movie. There was this look on his face, like _what the hell is this?_ He was laughing, but I don't think he was sure he was supposed to. Just about the time when Ash returned to the castle with the necronomicon and the wise one reluctantly agrees to send him back home, Steve's father came in to the room.

"Let's turn it down, okay Steve? Your mother and I are going to bed. Don't stay up too late."

"Sure Dad. We're done as soon as this is over."

"Okay. Good night, boys." He left the room.

I leaned over near Steve's ear and said "You know, if genetics works, you're still gonna be hot when you're older."

He looked at me, shocked, and said "Shut up. That's gross."

"What?"

"You want my dad!?"

"No, I want you. It's just nice to know that if it takes 20 years you'll still be worth it."

"Jesus, Bucky, he's, like, forty-five or something."

"So? You know Mr. Stark?"

"You mean the math teacher?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. What about him?"

"He's forty-five."

"So? What does—. Oh, no way! You and Mr. Stark?"

"Yep. He wasn't bad, either."

Steve started laughing. When he calmed down, he said, "You're incredible, you know?"

"That's what I've been told."

"No, I mean, you have no idea what an asshole you are."

"The problem is, I have no idea what an asshole you have."

He laughed again. "I've never known anyone quite like you."

"If I'm such an asshole, why do you hang around with me?"

"Well, you do good things for my image."

"Um, how do you mean?"

"Well, it's like, no one ever noticed me before, but now people do, they talk about me."

I laughed. "And this is a good thing?"

"Yeah. They know nothing has — you know — happened between us, because we still hang out. Everyone knows that as soon as you — um — you know, get someone, you throw them aside. So, we're still hanging out, so I haven't had sex with you."

"Ah. Logic. You're giving them too much credit."

"Maybe. Even if they do think you're — um," he smiled, "fucking me, I don't care. At least they see me now."

"You know," I said, "In a strange sort of way, you're just as fucked up as I am. That's a compliment."

"Uh, yeah, thanks, I guess."

"I was watching Bravo today."

"You — what?"

"I was watching Bravo today."

"Oh, I get it. New subject."

"Yeah."

"All right, so you were watching Bravo. And—?"

"You know that gay guy? The host? Andy something?"

"Yeah. The guy with the voice."

"That's him. Don't you think he's hot?"

"I think he's annoying."

"Well, that too."

"I mean, how did he get that job with that voice?"

"I think it was his face, actually."

"Maybe."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Wait — uh — no. Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Changing the subject."

"C'mon. Just one kiss. That's all for tonight. I promise." I scooted closer to him and carefully put my hand on his thigh.

"Bucky—"

I leaned in close to his face.

"Bucky, please, don't."

"One kiss."

He looked back at the stairs. "Someone is going to hear."

"Yeah? Only one way to shut me up."

"Why don't you go home."

I smiled. "All right," I said, quite loudly. "If you're not gonna—"

"Stop it," he whispered desperately.

"What's it going to be?"

He just looked at me for a minute, anger and amusement in his face. 

Finally he said "No tongue."

"No tongue." I leaned in close to him, my lips moving toward his. He began moving to meet me, our faces were within half an inch, and I pulled back. He followed for a couple of inches, but there was no kiss. I stood. "Good night, Steve. Thanks for the movie."

"Wait, but—"

"See you in school tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah. Good night." He looked confused. I left.

~o~

It was six-thirty, and I was standing in front of the Cooper Theatre.  
The line was not as bad as I'd thought. Steve was no where to be  
seen. He'd avoided me all day at school, so I wasn't sure he was going  
to show. Had I pushed him too far? Finally, at six-forty-five I saw him  
riding up. He locked his bike in the rack and walked up to me.

"I was wondering if you'd show," I said.

"Sorry. I had a phone call."

"Ah."

We got tickets and found seats. The theatre was half empty. We talked about nothing until the lights went down.

As the previews were rolling, he leaned over and whispered in my ear "Why did you stop?"

I leaned to his ear and said "You didn't really want to."

"No, but I was going to."

"Why?"

He paused a minute, then said "Well, it's just that you wanted to so much, and it was just a kiss, it wasn't — you know — that bad."

"I've been told I'm a pretty good kisser."

"That's not what I mean."

"So, kiss me now."

"What, here? No way. There're people here."

"Afterwards, then."

"We'll see."

I laughed quietly. "What happened to 'no'?"

"Don't push it."

After the movie, we walked across the parking lot to JB's, a drive-thru hamburger place. It had some tables out back, and a walk-up window, so we got hamburgers and sat and talked. At first we just talked about the movie, but as the hour wore on, he started asking me about some of my previous lovers — victims, he called them — what we'd done, how I'd convinced them. It seemed to be going well. After we'd finished, we rode back to his house. I stayed on my bike as we said good night. He walked up his sidewalk, and I started to turn my bike around. He stopped.

"Bucky."

I looked back. He looked around him, then started moving toward the darkness at the side of his house. "Come here."

I got off my bike and followed him.

Standing in the shadows, he said "No tongue." His voice shook.

"No tongue," I said. I walked into the shadows.

I reached over, my arm wrapping around the small of his back. I pulled him in close—not flush against me, but _close_. I could feel his warmth. He was so warm. And, yeah, I can feel him trembling a little. It was so cute. I leaned in close enough to feel his soft, sweet breath across my face. I touched the tip of my nose to his for a second before I pushed our mouths together. Maybe a little harder than I should have.

~o~

The next week passed. After that first kiss, he withdrew a bit, though  
he was back to normal a few days later. He wouldn't let me kiss him  
again. It was frustrating, but in a way, it was also fun.

Sunday morning, I was reading in my room when the phone rang. I was alone in the house, so I went and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, slave, what's going on tonight?"

"Hey, Clint. I don't know."

"Well, my parents are out of town, and I was kind of thinking—" His voice trailed off.

"You were thinking of collecting, am I right?"

"Yeah. How about it?"

"What the hell. It's about to fall off from neglect. It'll be good to get back in practice."

"Great. Anytime after six, okay?"

"Okay. I'll be there." I hung up the phone.

~o~

I was exhausted. Clint had proven to have an imagination after all.  
Maybe I shouldn't have promised him anything he wanted. I was on my  
back on his bed, my legs over his shoulders. Judging from his face, he  
getting pretty close to his third orgasm of the night. While I'd never  
admit it to him, I was pretty impressed. His eyes went wide, and his  
mouth opened, and he made that strange high pitched sound he made when  
he comes. He pounded into me a couple more times, then collapsed  
heavily on top of me. I straightened my legs and he rolled off to the  
side, breathing heavily.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Yeah," he gasped. "That's all I can do. You okay?"

"I think so. I'm going to be pretty sore in the morning though."

He laughed. "Thank you, you're too kind."

"Not at all. One thing, though. I've noticed that you've come three times, and I haven't come once."

"What's your point?"

"Well, I'm feeling kind of left out, here."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"You could jack me off."

"Why don't you do that?"

I looked above my head. "Well, for one thing, you've got my wrists tied to your headboard.”

He laughed. "Oh, yeah. I forgot. All right." He reached down and started jacking me off. It didn't take too long, and then we were lying side by side on his bed.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No prob. So, how are things going with Steve?"

"Slowly. Look, could you untie me? This is kinda uncomfortable."

He did, and I started rubbing life back into my hands.

"What do you mean slowly?"

"Just what I said. He hasn't caved yet."

"It's been two weeks."

"So."

"So, I think you're losing your touch. It never took you two weeks before."

"Steve's different. He's cooler than the others. I kinda like him."

Clint looked over at me, an amused look on his face. "Different?"

"Yeah, different. I like talking to him. He's smart. He knows what I'm after, but he still goes out with me. He just hasn't put out — yet."

"He's different. He's smart. You like talking to him. You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you're in love."

I sat up quickly, and looked down at his smirking face. "What?! No way."

"Yes way. It's, like, totally obvious."

"You're so wrong. Guys fall in love with me. I don't fall in love with them."

He started laughing hard.

"What?!" I demanded.

He kept laughing, tears falling down his face. When he finally managed to regain control he said "You've got it bad. And you don't even know it. You're so pathetic trying to deny it. You know what this means?"

"What does it mean?"

"It means I win."

"You're insane," I said. "I have to go. I'll talk to you in school, if you're making more sense." 

I quickly pulled my clothes onto my sweaty body and went home. As I walked into my house, I ignored my mother's impotent protests. She'd lost any power over me more than a year ago. I took a quick shower, and then threw my bare body on my bed. I pulled the sheet over myself, and turned off the bedside lamp.

An hour later I was still awake. I couldn't stop thinking about what Clint had said. When I tried to force myself to think of something else, I ended up thinking about Steve, which brought me back to Clint. Could he be right? Could I be in...

I thought about the time I'd spent with Steve over the past two weeks. I'd tried to bed him. I'd pushed him, and he pushed back. He just wasn't interested. That's all. I'd kept trying to wear him down, and he kept resisting. It wasn't love, I just wanted to fuck him.

Who was I kidding? I hadn't really tried. After the kiss, I just let myself enjoy his company. Sure, I made a few token efforts, but they were weak. If I'd kept at him, I'd have had him by now, and left him behind.

Left him behind. The instant I thought that, a kind of hole opened inside me. I didn't want to leave him behind.

Fuck! I was in love!

I lay there, feeling helpless for I don't know how long. But you know what? The more I thought about it, the less bad it became. By the time the sun came up, I was feeling kind of good. I was in love. And I was liking it. I sang in the shower. At breakfast, I talked to my mother. I was even nice to her. Scared the hell out of her.

When I got to school, I got my books for my first class, then waited in the hall near Steve's locker. A little before first hour, he staggered in, looking dead tired.

"Steve," I said.

He looked over groggily, then sort of smiled. He had a wonderful smile. "Hi."

"You look beat."

"Yeah, I was up late. Homework."

I walked up real close to him and leaned in towards his face. He kind of smiled nervously and said "What are you doing?"

"I need to talk to you," I said quietly.

"Okay. Go ahead."

"No. Privately. Skip school today."

"What, are you nuts?"

"Yeah, I think I might be."

"What do you mean?"

"Just do it."

"No. I can't skip school."

"Please, it's important. Just this once."

"Why?" I could tell from his voice that I was getting to him.

"C'mon. I'll never ask you to do this again. I really need to talk to you, and if I have to wait all day, I'll explode."

He sighed. "All right. Where are we going?"

"Um, how about my place?"

"Sure, whatever."

We walked out of the building, feeling a little self-conscious. After a short bike ride, we got to my house. We went to the kitchen where I offered him a drink, and then we sat at the table.

"All right," he said, putting down his coke. "What was so important."

"It's like this. Last night I couldn't sleep. I kind of realized something. At first it scared the hell outta me, but the more I though about it, the more it became a good thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"Promise you won't freak?"

"Yeah."

"Promise."

"Okay, I promise."

"All right." I licked my lips nervously. "I realized last night that I love you."

He didn't say anything for a moment.

"Did you hear me?" I asked.

"Um, yeah." He smiled. "You love me?"

He sounded almost hopeful when he said that. "Yeah. Can you beat that?"

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Wow. Bucky Barnes, the terror of Midwood High School, loves me. Tell me, did you ever love any of the others?"

"No. They were no-ones."

"And I'm not?"

"Well, you were at first, but I got to know you. You became someone. I don't know how this happened. I didn't want it to happen, but now that it has, I like it."

He grinned a large, toothy grin. "You know what this means?"

"Uh, no. What?"

"It means I've beat you at your own game."

Now it was my turn to pause. "What?"

"I played your own game against you, and I won."

"I don't—"

"It's over. I win."

I wasn't following him. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, Bucky, that it's over." He stood and held out his hand. I shook it automatically. "It was a good game."

"Steve—"

"Stop, Bucky, you're embarrassing yourself. Face it, I beat you. I did to you what you've done to I don't know how many other guys. I've fucked you, and now I'm abandoning you. You just didn't get laid, that's all." He turned and walked out of the house.

For a long time I sat there staring at nothing. I was pissed off. I was hurt. I felt empty. I felt nothing. I moped around the house, filled with self-pity and confusion. Then, at precisely 2:33pm, I had a revelation that cut into me to the core.

This must be how everyone I'd ever used felt. I had made I don't know how many people feel like this. Self-pity gave way to self-loathing. I wanted to throw up. I walked past a mirror, and I could not look at myself. Always before I had thought of myself as pretty damn gorgeous, but I wasn't. I was ugly. Horrifying. I ran out of the house, got on my bike and pedaled madly. I had no idea where I was going, I just wanted to get away. But no matter how fast I went, I could not get away from myself.

I ended up at the student center of the university. I went in and got a coke in the cafeteria. I sat at a table for an hour, then left the coke untouched. I wound my way back to the arcade. There, I put a quarter in the Street Fighter machine, and for the first time ever, I beat the computer. When I grew tired of the game, I turned to leave. Near the door I spotted a familiar dark-rooted blond.

"Pedro!" I called out. No reaction. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, then called out "Pietro!"

He looked around, smiling, but when he saw me, the smile vanished. He looked at me for a second, then turned and left the arcade. I ran after him.

"Pietro, please!" I caught up with him and slowed to a walk.

"Leave me alone."

"Look, can I talk to you?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Why? You horny or something?" He hadn't looked at me yet.

"No. Things are—things are different."

He kept walking.

"Look, I'm sorry."

He rounded on me, anger in his face. "You're sorry? You're fucking sorry?!" He grabbed my shirt and pushed up against a wall. "Do you have any idea what you did to me? Do you?"

"Yeah, I do." I said the quietly.

He laughed an angry laugh. "How can you? How can you know what it's like? I thought you liked me. I thought I'd finally found someone I could be with. Someone who understood the things I was going through. You just wanted a quick piece of ass."

"You're right. I was a complete asshole. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

The anger in his face softened, just a little. He shook his head, is if trying to shake off confusion. "What are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to apologize."

"Why? Why should I believe you?"

"You're right. There's no reason you should trust me."

"I don't. Tell me why I should believe you."

"Because it happened to me."

"What happened to you?"

"What I did to you. I met a guy, I fell in love, and he used me and dumped me. I had no idea what you must have felt, but now I do, and I am really, really sorry."

He let go of my shirt. "Really? He dumped you?"

"Yeah. He never even cared about me. He knew what I did, and he did it to me."

"Wow. I'm sorry."

I blinked. "You're sorry?"

"Yeah. I know how it feels, and no one should feel like that."

I kinda shook my head. "I don't get you. I make you feel like shit, then when someone makes me feel like shit, you're sorry."

"Yeah. I don't go for revenge. Look, you did something terrible to me, but maybe now that you know what it's like, you won't do it to anyone else."

"No. I won't. I swear."

He looked at me a moment, a kind of appraising look. The he said "Look, do you wanna, like, get something to drink?"

"You mean it?"

"Yeah. Maybe we can try again. Start over, you know? On the right foot, this time."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah. Obviously there was something I liked about you before. Otherwise we wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe we could be friends. Stranger things have happened."

"Yeah," I said, fighting back tears. "I would like something to drink."

The next day in school, I was content. Pietro and I had talked for a few hours. If I had bothered to talk to him before, I would have known he was so cool. He also had the most beautiful brown eyes I'd ever seen. We were friends.

Between third and fourth hour, I saw Clint at his locker. He was talking to Natasha, one of the cheerleaders. Jeez, a cheerleader. You'd think he'd have some pride. I waited until she left, then walked up to him.

"Hi, Clint," I said cheerfully.

"Hey."

"You and Natasha—?"

"Looks that way."

"Getting lazy? I figured you'd want more of a challenge."

"Hey, you take what you can get."

I held out my book. "Hold this please." He took it. With his hands occupied, I grabbed his face, pressed my lips to his, and jammed my tongue into his mouth. It took him a few seconds to react, then he pushed me away.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded.

I just smiled at him. "You lose."


End file.
